


The World was Wide Enough

by orphan_account



Series: When Your Hist'ry Book Mentions Me [1]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda, Hamilton - Miranda (Broadway Cast) RPF
Genre: Reincarnation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-18
Updated: 2016-12-18
Packaged: 2018-09-09 10:26:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8887372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Hamilton froze, his eyes trained on Burr, who grinned nervously. There was silence for a long moment.“What are you thinking?” Burr asked cautiously. “I’m thinking I should wait to punch you after the show, and spare the audience the sight of your broken nose.”(one shot)





	

 

 

Burr could not help but stare. He felt the years stripping away, and he was young again, in his first body with no clue as to what was about to happen, when a kid walked up to him and tapped him on the shoulder.

_How could_ he _be here?_ And with that face, the one with the same permanent bags beneath the eyes and the same desperation burning from his sockets.

 

It could be someone else, Burr reasoned. A descendent. The man himself waved Burr over with a grin. “And who are you?”

 

Burr swallowed, forcing a smile onto his face as he shook his hand. “Leslie Odom. Jr.”

_____________________________________________________________________________________

 

He got the part.

 

Of course he did, who could play him better than himself? He practiced tirelessly, learning every twist and turn in the rhythm, every note perfectly in tune, every beat measured to the millisecond.

 

And Lin was there, wearing Hamilton’s face, speaking Hamilton’s words, and there was no way he could be _anyone else_ , but Burr said nothing.

 

And every night he took that heavy gun in his hands once more, every night he felt his own guilt threaten to burn his throat, every night he felt like he had lost… something.

 

He marveled at the songs Lin had written for him- complicated and desperate and haunting, a perfect painting of the man he once was in every way, shape, and form.

 

But of course, Hamilton had always seen through him, those piercing brown eyes and almost childish smirk fixed permanently on his face, his arms crossed to hide his ink-stained fingertips.

 

But Lin didn’t know who Burr was, and Burr wasn’t about to spoil it.

 

They were friends. They could talk and laugh and make jokes together and it was almost normal.

 

Then Burr would point that dreaded gun and there would be a _bang_ loud enough to make the heavens shake and Burr would watch as Lin spoke Hamilton’s last thoughts.

 

He didn’t cry, because Hamilton was _here_ and it was almost perfect.

_____________________________________________________________________________________

 

Everything came crashing down around his ears one terrible, ordinary day.

 

Burr reached the theatre early that day, which was unusual: he was normally one of the last to arrive. He found Lin at a table, scribbling furiously with a ballpoint pen, about five or six others scattered across the table. Papers littered the floor around the room, filled with familiar cramped handwriting- _Hamilton’s_ handwriting; Burr’s stomach lurched.

 

The writer didn’t seem to notice him come in. “Lin?” Burr said quietly, but after getting no response, repeated it a little louder. “Lin!” Still no response. Burr had seen Hamilton like this before. He delved deep into his mind, losing consciousness of reality, losing himself in his writing. He scribbled faster, words flowing endlessly from his pen. “ _Hamilton_!” That got his attention.

 

“Ah! Leslie! Sorry, I was just…” he gestured vaguely around him.

 

Burr almost laughed at the use of his alias. Then he saw the other man’s face. His long hair was unkempt, his stubble more overgrown, and his bags were dark and heavy. “When did you go to sleep last night?” he asked, dreading the answer.

 

“Last night?” Lin frowned. “What time is it?”

 

“About an hour before the show.”

 

Lin’s eyes widened and he cursed under his breath, gathering up his papers hastily.

 

“When did you go to sleep?” Burr insisted.

 

Lin wouldn’t meet his eyes. “I didn’t.” he muttered.

 

Burr sighed. “Damn it, Hamilton, you know that’s unhealthy.”

 

“I know,” the other man ran a hand over his face. “I’m sorry, I just…” he paused. “Did you just call me Hamilton?”

 

Burr drew up a chair, facing the founding father. “Cut the crap, I know it’s you.”

 

Hamilton forced a laugh, but then saw that Burr was serious. He sighed, dropping the papers on the table, falling back into the seat and crossing his arms. “How’d you know?”

 

“Well, first of all, you managed somehow to get your original face back, which I’ve been trying to do for _years_. Secondly, you have too much energy to be anyone else. Lastly, writing like… well, like you’re running out of time.” Burr ticked them off on his fingers. “I must say, I knew you were arrogant, but really, Hamilton, a musical? About yourself?”

 

Hamilton’s eyes filled with hope. “Who are you?”

 

Burr raised an eyebrow, settling back in his chair. “That depends, who’s asking?” he quoted.

 

Hamilton froze, his eyes trained on Burr, who grinned nervously. There was silence for a long moment.

 

“What are you thinking?” Burr asked cautiously.

 

“I’m thinking I should wait to punch you after the show, and spare the audience the sight of your broken nose.”

 

“Listen, I understand that you’re upset, but-”

 

“Upset?” Hamilton stood and began pacing the room. “Why would I be upset? Because you killed me? Because you lied your way into my musical? No, I don’t suppose that would be reason to be upset.”

 

“I’m sorry, I…” Burr trailed off, unsure about how to begin to apologize.

 

“Oh, you’re sorry, are you?” repeated Hamilton. “Well, that makes it alright, then!”

 

“Hamilton! I didn’t mean to shoot you. It was… you were right.”

 

Hamilton raised an eyebrow. “When…?”

 

“When you said… wrote that I was thinking of my daughter. I turned and shot before I saw you were aiming at the sky. I didn’t want to kill you, I just wanted to survive.”

 

Hamilton let out a small _‘humph.’_

 

There another silence, but it was somehow thicker, denser. It settled between the two men like a heavy snow, weighing on their shoulders, causing Burr to shiver, and as Hamilton turned his dark eyes on Burr, he could feel his universe shattering.

 

He wasn’t forgiven.

 

Of course he wasn’t.

 

“Hamilton-”

 

Hamilton shook his head, letting out a sigh. “Go get dressed, _Leslie_.”

 

Burr understood himself to be dismissed. The words _I’m sorry_ died on his lips, and he swallowed. As he walked away, he heard Hamilton let out a breath, but he didn’t turn around.

_____________________________________________________________________________________

 

Later that night, he looked out at the darkened audience, the gun feeling cold in his hands. His voice broke and the words were heavy on his tongue as he sang.

 

_“The world was wide enough for both Hamilton and me.”_

**Author's Note:**

> comments/kudos/etc?


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